


Turn Again: a Janet Fraiser fanmix (with ficlets)

by cnidarian



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnidarian/pseuds/cnidarian
Summary: This woman is amazing, yo.





	Turn Again: a Janet Fraiser fanmix (with ficlets)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pellucid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pellucid/gifts).



> Links have expired so I have removed them.

 

 

 

X **sister - mumford & sons** [for what she left behind]  
_sister don't let go  
sister don't let go of us_

 _don't test the ones you love_  
_it'll only tear us down_  
_if you want to feel alive_  
_then learn to love your ground_

¬ "But why, why do you have to go to Ohio?"

Janet dropped the bag of donation clothes at the top of the stairs and considered explaining the importance of helping those less fortunate. Not what he meant, she realised, but she didn't know how to explain it in a way Scott could understand. Leaving home had seemed such a big deal when she was nine.

And there was a bigger issue. She wasn't going to college locally, like all the Fraisers before her. And she had no intention of returning to Garrard County afterwards. It wasn't just her brother who didn't understand. Father had spoken of their roots - _her roots_ \- buried deep in the Bluegrass soil. As if she couldn't feel them, wrapping around and choking her.

_I love you, so much. But I have to try, have to see what I can be. And I can't do that here._

 

X **hoppípolla - sigur ros** [those brave early days]

¬ It wasn't when she'd first brought a patient back. Not then. That had been too desperate - _where the fuck is the attending?!_ \- and too terrifying - _he'sdeadhe'sdead_ \- and then too full of absolute relief, the other interns congratulating her as she fought the bile rising in her throat. The only thing that did was make her question if she was cut out to be a doctor.

No, it was a boy - Liam, Liam, his name forever etched behind her eyelids - who was told he'd never go back to Little League. She assisted the attending orthopedic surgeon, watched as he performed his medical magic, and then, two months later, when Liam and his dad walked back into the hospital with a mitt and matching smiles, she had almost shouted out loud.

Being a doctor wouldn't just be what she _did_ ; she wanted it to become who she _was_.

 

X **lucie silvas - what you're made of** [another four letter word for pain]  
_i hear you talking but your words don't mean a thing_  
_i doubt you ever put your heart in anything_  
_it's not much to ask for to get back what i put in_  
_but i chose the waters that i'm in_

¬ On a good day she felt like a fool, learning from a mistake. On a bad day she felt angry, because it wasn’t _her_ failure, that the man who’d married her couldn't love her enough to see her dreams. But on the worst days she felt used up, afraid that she’d had her shot and this sensation of detachment would be forever.

 

X **thomas newman - listen up** [where she left a piece of her soul]  
_(instrumental)_

¬ Dust and dirt and boredom were her constant companions, intermittently joined by blood and death and the activity whirlwind that came with a chopper arriving. It was enough to drive her crazy in the beginning. Now she'd go mad without it all.

There were twenty seven days until the end of her tour, until she got to go home to a world where she'd have to decide which of the many different types of lettuce to buy in the supermarket. She had no idea where she was headed next. Her role in the Middle East was important, once. Rewarding on paper, but futile in reality, fixing desert rats just so they could get hurt all over again.

She was so goddamn tired. At least this war had rid her of the residual anger from her divorce - she'd seen enough anger and violence that she wondered how she could be anything now but numb.

 

X **foo fighters - times like these** [where she picked herself out of the wreckage]  
_I, I’m a new day rising  
I’m a brand new sky to hang the stars upon tonight_

¬ She swore up and down she'd never return to working for an active base. Yet, with the dossier in her hand and a choice before her, she found she wanted more than the paper cuts and RSI that Nellis offered her. So she had signed her name thirty four different times and then the bald general with the quiet, perceptive eyes had smiled slightly, like a chess master mid-game.

Day one someone mentioned a rabbit hole and having fallen down it. _No shit_ , she’d thought. But at the same time, looking slowly around the infirmary, she’d gotten a glimpse of the potential. _Her domain_ , she’d joked to herself. CMO of a front line medical facility, dealing with first contact situations…

Yes. About time for a new challenge.

 

X **elbow - dear friends** [she found a family under the earth...]  
_you stuck a pin in a map I was in  
and you are the stars I navigate home by_

¬ Personnel stopped by her office from time to time. She was more than just a doctor to many on base - her no-nonsense approach got the job done and she wasn't afraid to use it, but her way also involved a good deal of compassion, too. Even the most battle-hardened solider appreciated her non-judgmental stance.

None of that explained the sheer volume today, though. She tried once more to concentrate on the journal on her desk, only for the phone to ring.

"Hey Janet!"

She felt a smile break across her face as Sam launched into a rambling summary of her plans for the weekend with Cassie. Occasionally there would be a pause, some electrical tinkering noises, and what Janet recognised as the sound of Sam's brain working on overdrive. Eventually, she couldn't help herself.

"Wouldn't that be easier if you got off the phone?"

"Trying to get rid of me?" Sam teased.

"Actually... I mean, no, of course not. Only, I've got work to do myself and it seems as if every man and his dog has a reason to visit my office today."

"Damn."

"Problem?" Janet asked.

"I just lost money, I think. Daniel and I bet Colonel O'Neill that you would've figured it out by now."

"What out? Are you telling me he's behind the constant stream of traffic? I...I don't get it."

"Janet. There's no set up. Five years ago today you joined the Stargate Program. For _some_ reason, people here are grateful for having you around."

She was still trying to come up with a coherent response to that when there was a high pitched whining noise ending in a muted explosion. Sam coughed and muttered something which sounded suspiciously like _uh-oh, turkey's done_ before the line went dead.

Janet shook her head and called the control room for assistance. Seven minutes later, a tap came at the door. She stood to answer it this time, throwing the journal in the top drawer as she did.

 

X **dar williams - the one who knows** [...and the stars made it whole]  
_but sometimes I will ask the moon_  
_where it shined upon you last_  
_and shake my head and laugh and say_  
_it all went by so fast_

¬ She was about as groggy as a person could get without the aid of chemicals. A late shift had turned into a _late_ late, and then an early shift...and after that she had just stopped counting. Getting up had been extremely unpleasant.

"Mom!!"

Since answering would just encourage Cassie to maintain the volume and conduct the conversation from the other room, Janet stayed quiet.

"Mom-- oh, man, you look like shit."

Janet cracked an eye open in what she hoped was a _language, young lady!_ expression.

Cassie squirmed minutely. "Did you get my post-it?"

She had; she'd woken up, woozy from lack of sleep, and stumbled into the bathroom, only to discover a message stuck to her forehead. The words had been helpfully written back-to-front so she'd been able to read it in the mirror.

"Cass," she started, voice gravelly, "you realise that we have a perfectly good fridge, complete with magnets?"

That gained her a shrug and a grin, and then a kiss on the temple.

"See you later?"

"Don't be out late," Janet called after her.

Cassie merely tapped her watch as she rounded the corner. And then she was gone.

 

X **all thieves - turn and turn again** [waiting behind is the hardest]  
_we are calling in all the ships_  
_every traveller please come home_  
_and tell us all that you have seen_  
_break every lock to every door_  
_return every gun to every drawer_  
_so we can turn and turn again_

¬ She didn't know how long she'd been staring when movement, reflected in the glass, caught her eye. A gesture of support, coffee and no conversation; he knew better. He was _George_ at times like these, not General Hammond, not when their mutual, iron-will-contained concern and fear and helplessness had blurred the edges of their roles, along with the early hour.

SG-1 had been late before and they'd be late again. They always made it back, somehow, and when the jokes did the rounds, Janet smiled along with everyone else.

But here, in the darkest hour before the dawn, they both knew what they would never say: that one day the well of luck would run dry. And then, no matter how much she stared through the glass, no matter how much love and longing she presented as offerings to the 'gate, it would eat them whole.

 

X **ludovico einaudi - dietro casa** [but freedom don't come for free]  
_(instrumental)_

**Author's Note:**

> Er, yes. So I made this. And I don't know if it's what I meant it to be (the tone is somewhat more depressing than I intended), but my excuse is that all my music is on my HD back home.


End file.
